


Keep the Flame

by NeverSatisfiedGirl (Kalli_Ravenne)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Mild Language, One Shot, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 19:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8222822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalli_Ravenne/pseuds/NeverSatisfiedGirl
Summary: It's a known truth that a hunter's life is often a short one. The Winchester boys know full well; they have died and lived more than anyone else on earth. But what happens when a last pitch to save the world claims one of them permanently? Will the flame of their legacy die out?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jyg3Lo_-Ep8) by the Broadway Cast of Hamilton: An American Musical 
> 
> A/N: Hello hello! This is for [@faith-in-dean](https://tmblr.co/m_4_FskNftItOHbAjPs7-tQ) and her awesome Hamilnatural Writing Challenge. It was tough to get through writing this one. Just the planning of it made me teary-eyed…and writing it was even worse.   
>   
> So in advance: _I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry._
> 
> *Special thanks to my loves [@chaos-and-the-calm67](https://tmblr.co/mg7JSFDVz1nQ-jG9E6-3eOw) and [@kristaparadowski](https://tmblr.co/mOPwrOkDqQxZPtZNp8oGPDA) for volunteering as beta tributes.

It wasn’t real.

A six-foot-plus frame enshrouded in a sheet, doused in kerosene, stacked atop wooden planks and logs.

It wasn’t real.

The torch in his trembling hands.

It wasn’t real.

God damn it, it wasn’t real.

But it was.

Billie had all but confirmed it, having handled it personally.

And as Dean set the flame to Sam Winchester’s lifeless body, he couldn’t help but feel… _numb_. The shock, the guilt, the devastation became too much to define one at a time, to the point that it all just melded together at once. 

Castiel stood by Dean’s side as they silently watched over the burning pyre. He saved Dean’s life, using the last of his latent psychic power to bring the forces of Hell to its knees, cleansing them from the face of the earth forever. And it didn’t take demon blood to do it. Just his life-force.

He knew this. And he risked it anyway. 

For everyone. But most of all for his big brother.

> **_Let me tell you what I wish I’d_ known **  
>  **_when I was young and dreamed of glory:  
>  _ ** **_you have no control  
>  _ ** **_who lives, who dies, who tells your story._ **

In the days that followed, Dean simply shut down. He neither slept nor ate, not a drop of alcohol touched his lips. Not even an attempt at a joke or sarcasm passed his lips.  
  
For the first time in his life, he was laid bare. He was vulnerable. There was no cover for this, no bandage big enough. No spells or magic elixirs could deal with this level of grief.

He couldn’t drown this in liquor. And he didn’t want to.

***

Castiel was never far away. He was mostly there in solidarity, but also to make sure Dean wouldn’t do anything foolish. He knew the guilt that Dean carried, knew it as well as he did his own. But there were so few words of comfort he could offer, and Dean was in no state to hear them. So Castiel kept himself occupied by cleaning up around the bunker, making sure the kitchen was stocked in the event Dean was ready to eat. He even took the time to learn his way around a laptop. It took some doing, but he was able to perform basic functions like email and using Google. He wanted to be of help in some way for when… _if_ Dean ever chose to resume hunting.  
  
A bright ping sounded. There was a new email.

But when Castiel double-clicked and read the sender’s name, he knew he had to get Dean.

***  
Dean didn’t much appreciate being zapped from his bed, and had some colorful language to make that clear. But when Castiel directed him to the laptop screen, he stopped cold. He kept reading the heading:  
  
**_From: Sam W. ([wedgeantilles34@gmail.com](mailto:wedgeantilles34@gmail.com))_**

**_To: Dean W. ([impalababy38@gmail.com](mailto:impalababy38@gmail.com))_ **

**_Subject: PLEASE WATCH THIS_**  
  
Dean clicked on the attachment with trembling hands. Within seconds, a video starts up. 

And Sam’s weary but smiling face is looking back at Dean.  
  
_“Hey Dean. If you’re watching this, it means this was sent to you when I wasn’t around to reschedule it. Which means I’m…not around anymore.”_

Dean winced at the sharp pain in his gut at those words, at his brother’s voice. “Sammy…” he rasped.

_“I…I’m sorry, Dean. About everything.  I think I knew, somehow, that it would always end like this. I think, from the moment Yellow Eyes put demon blood in me, that it was meant to end like this.  I hadn’t used my psychic powers since before I fell into the pit. And I thought I could escape it. Because all I wanted, in spite of everything we’ve been through, was to keep hunting with my big brother.”_

He couldn’t feel the hot tears that ran down his cheeks.  
  
_“It’s okay though, Dean. Because this isn’t your fault. And stop thinking that it is. You’ve been carrying me out of the fire since you were four. You looked out for me all my life. How could you ever think that I wouldn’t do the same for you? No matter how we pissed each other off, we were always family. So…pretty sure Billie’s gonna toss me into the void after this is over. And maybe it’s for the best, all the trouble we caused. But I don’t regret it, not for a moment. So I got something for you.”_

Dean watched on as Sam pulled out a box from the chair alongside him and set it aside on the tabletop.

_“I’ve been updating Dad’s journal with all the monsters, ghosts, demons – everything we’ve ever hunted – and spells that Bobby left for us from past cases. In this box are all my notes, my flash drives of research, and… There’s pictures, Dean. Of us. Mom and Dad. Bobby. Our family. I want you to keep them. In case you need to remember something good. In case you need to - “_

> **_And when you’re gone, who remembers your name?  
>  Who keeps your flame?  
>  Who tells your story?_ **

Sam cleared his throat, probably about as choked up as Dean felt. A couple of stray tears fell from Sam’s eyes, but with a quick exhale he regained some composure and continued.

_“I wouldn’t blame you if you decide not to keep hunting; no one would. You and me, we’ve given so much already. Lost people we loved, lost each other…shit, countless times. So I get it. You’re free to walk away, Dean. Go find your apple-pie life, do something you want to for a change._

_“But…if you do stay in this life…just don’t go it alone, man. I know you, I know you could take out every last evil son-of-a-bitch out there with your eyes closed…”_

They both scoffed at that one.

_“Seriously though, don’t do this alone. Take Cas, at least. He’s capable, he’ll look out for you, and…he’s family. Cas, if you’re watching this, take care of my brother. And…thank you. For everything. “_

Dean turned to Castiel as he nodded dutifully at the screen, a pained but stern look on his face.

_“Time to wrap this up, I guess. Getting ready to, um, save the world again… And Dean?”_

Dean waited.

_“Love ya, jerk.”_

With one last smile, Sam waved at the screen, and the video ended.

Dean barely managed to croak out, “Love you too, bitch.” At that, he crumpled into a heap and wept. He wept as he never had before as Castiel held on to him, allowing him to let go.

***  


> **_And I’m still not through._ **
> 
> **_I ask myself what would you do if you had more time._ **
> 
> **_The Lord, in his kindness, gives me what you always wanted:_ **
> 
> **_he gives me more time._ **

_Three weeks later…_

Dean doesn’t find out what actually became of his brother’s soul until the end of a rather nasty revenant hunt. From none other than the Reaper herself, no less.

Billie, once hell-bent on tossing them into the void as revenge for killing her boss, seemed to have a change of heart. Well that, and a special commendation from God – though he still preferred Chuck – to allow the boys to rejoin their loved ones in Heaven. Not that it was deserved since, "after all, look at how many times they started the apocalypse just by choosing to save each other. But it was that they always rolled up their sleeves and put their asses on the line to fix their catastrophes and save the world – that definitely earned a permanent lifetime pass out of hell and away from the void." In his own freaking words, God had granted them amnesty.

Sam was in heaven. Not lost to nothingness. For the first time in his life, Dean felt a surge of something he hadn't genuinely felt in a long time: hope. 

He'd get to see his brother, and everyone they loved.

“Just…don’t be in such a hurry to see Sam. He’ll be there when you’re ready,” she snarked, though her tone was somewhat playful. “And it’ll be quite a while to your little reunion, so do what you can while you’re here. Not everyone has the chance.”

While loading up the trunk, Castiel tosses in a few weapons and looks with expectant eyes. He hardly looked battle-worn, thanks to his angel mojo.

Dean smirked as he tossed in his favorite sawed-off shotgun before hitting the road. “We got work to do.”

> **_And when my time is up, have I done enough?_ **
> 
> **_Will they tell my story?_ **
> 
> **_Oh, I can’t wait to see you again…_ **
> 
> **_it’s only a matter of time._ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_Will they tell your story?_ **
> 
> **_Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?_ **


End file.
